


Catalyst

by Talithax



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:39:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22625698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talithax/pseuds/Talithax
Summary: An unexpected assignment brings things to light.
Relationships: William Brandt/Ethan Hunt
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	Catalyst

**Author's Note:**

> \- Self-beta'd  
> \- Narrated by Ethan.
> 
> Okay... So it's like this...
> 
> \- I still suck at coming up with a summary.  
> \- This was actually written something like four years ago. Ooops. I felt it was full of errors at the time, and very much... same-same... in regards to what I like to write. So... I pretended it didn't exist. You know, as you do. But... It's okay. That is, I like to think it's okay. Hopefully a lot of the errors are now gone, and I haven't posted anything in absolutely forever, so... regardless of whether it's same-same it's still something new. Right??  
> \- I've got another fic that I dumped years ago at the 27,000 word mark. (Yeah, yeah... Ooops, yet again...) I'm kinda feeling the urge to finally go back to it, but... We'll see. Baby steps and all that.  
> \- To everyone who has left kudos in the face of my continued silence, I thank you. A lot. Seriously.
> 
> Enjoy!

=========  
Catalyst  
by TalithaX  
=========

Blinking in the brilliant, momentarily blinding light as the peaceful darkness I'd been sitting – sulking – in only a second ago transforms into a flurry of activity around me, I sit up and, as Benji, muttering something about 'dying for a piss' very nearly trips over my feet in his haste to get to the bathroom, stretch in a futile attempt to introduce some semblance of comfort in my battered and bruised body.

“Shit! Sorry. I didn't know you were there,” Jane declares apologetically as she dumps her bag on the coffee-table and peers down at me. “Hopefully you weren't asleep.”

“I wasn't asleep,” I reassure her as, accepting that stretching achieved absolutely fuck all, I reach past her for the packet of painkillers and water bottle on the coffee-table. “Just...” Popping out two of the pills, I swallow them with a mouthful of water and shrug. “Feeling sorry for myself, I suppose.”

“Yeah, well... That beating you took the other day... would... do that to a person.” Grinning, Jane takes a seat next to me and immediately leans forward to take off her ankle boots. “Plus, you know, you're not getting any younger...”

“And yet, even though it was five against one, I'm the only one still here,” I mock grumble.

“Yeah, yeah.” Looking relieved to be rid of her boots, Jane stretches her legs out and rests her feet against the edge of the glass topped coffee-table. “I'm not saying you're not... pretty spry... for a man of you're many... many... years,” she teases, “but you know as well as I do that the main reason you're still here is because Will took it upon himself to go off script and...” Trailing off, she glances around the large, airy open plan living and kitchen area of the pretentiously expensive Covent Garden apartment we've been calling home for the last fortnight and shrugs. “Actually, where... is... Will? Usually when you're sitting around like a picture of misery he's hovering nearby offering his services up as either a nurse or butler. Has he gone out? I mean, there always being a first time for everything and all that. Or... And this probably more like it, has he just gone to bed?”

“Will,” I announce when I can finally get a word in, “has been seconded to Six and is out there doing their dirty work for them.” Scowling, I follow Jane's lead by propping my feet up on the coffee-table and tilt my head back against the sofa. “He should be back some time before dawn, but when exactly depends on the success of the op.”

“You sound thrilled,” Jane comments, not exactly sounding all that thrilled about the idea herself as she gently digs her elbow into my side. “Come on then, as it's clearly a sore point for you, fess up and tell me all about it.”

Sore point?

Dear God, she has no idea how much of a sore, troubling point it is for me.

“As it's not something I really feel up to talking about in a calm, rational manner,” I reply, keeping my gaze trained on the truly ugly light fitting that dominates the centre of the ceiling and that, not for the first time, leaves me despairing of modern interior design, “perhaps we'd be better off talking about how your day went and whether you now know more about Kent than when you woke up this morning.”

“With Benji, and you know full well he never shuts up, as my tour guide, how could I... not... know more than I ever wanted to know about Kent, huh?” Jane drawls. “But, fine, because you asked, our day was good. Benji's penchant for being a walking, talking font of relatively useless information, and his damn phobia about using the amenities at train stations aside, we had fun and I enjoyed seeing his... old stomping ground. It was also nice having a day to ourselves for a change. Now...” Pausing, she gives a puff of annoyance and digs her elbow a little more forcefully into my side. “Seeing as you now know how our day was, tell me about yours.”

“Hey.” Giving me both a smile and nod of greeting, Benji walks into the room and flops down in to an armchair. “Where's Will?”

“Ethan was just getting to that, weren't you, Ethan?” Jane murmurs smugly as, knowing when I'm beat, I reluctantly sit up a little straighter and, placing my feet back down on the floor, rub my hands over my face. “Now that you're here, Benji, he's going to explain to the both of us just what it is Will's doing for our... dear friends... over at Vauxhall Cross.”

“Six?” Benji exclaims, shock plastered all over his face. “Ethan? What's Will having to do for those slimy bastards? I would have thought that after the Lane, Atlee fiasco that they wouldn't have wanted to touch any of us with a ten foot barge pole.”

“As the mark, Samuel Jenkinson, used to work in their recruitment branch, they...”

“Needed fresh blood,” Jane finishes, punctuating her nod of understanding with a sour look. “But why Will? It's not like Jenkinson should have been able to recognise you either.” 

“I, thanks to my run in with Chau's goons, didn't... look the part,” I state flatly. “Too... beat up and rough around the edges were, I think, Taylor's exact words.”

“For what?” Benji queries, his expression one of confusion as he leans forward in his seat. “It's not as if you were going to have to seduce this Jenkinson bloke or anything like that.”

“That... Shit!” Jane sighs and, as the pieces start to fall in to place in her mind, shakes her head. “It's a seduction op, isn't it? Those assholes at Six needed an unknown to seduce Jenkinson, and...”

“Hunley had no issues whatsoever in signing us up for it,” I mutter, remembering, all too clearly, the phone call that started the day's descent in to complete and utter crap. “Inter-agency cooperation, he called it, but I still call it what it is and that's bullshit. We only wrapped our own mission up yesterday, I look, if Taylor's appalled expression was anything to go by, like I feel, and, damn it, Will shouldn't be expected to just... step up to the plate... like this. Not... Not when it's clearly outside his comfort zone and...” Suddenly feeling as though I've already said too much and opened a can of worms I didn't want to touch on, I fall silent and stand up.

“Think again,” Jane declares in a no-nonsense tone as, grabbing my hand, she tugs me back down onto the sofa. “This conversation is a long way off finished, buster.”

“He... He wasn't having to go all the way, was he?” Benji interjects with a frown. “I mean, surely Hunley wouldn't have agreed to...”

“Of course he would have,” Jane mutters, cutting him off as she glares at me until I – get the damn hint already – fold my arms petulantly across my chest and slump back against the back of the sofa. “Don't kid yourself, Benji. We're all expendable and if the Secretary wants you to whore yourself for the greater good then... off you go.”

“But...”

“Jane's right,” I snort. “If the op calls for it then...”

“We spread 'em, or, in other cases, bend over and take it,” Jane sighs as, her expression finally softening, she shifts closer and places her hand lightly on my thigh. “Come on, Ethan, put us out of our misery here. Did it sound like he was going to have to go all...”

“No. Thank God.” Echoing Jane's sigh, I pick up her hand and squeeze it. “Look. Although I'm going to keep it brief, I'll start from the beginning and bring you up to speed on the crappy day I've had while you've been riding the rails and gallivanting around in Kent.”

“Hallelujah. Now we're finally getting somewhere.”

“If you're going to be a smart ass about it I can always change my...”

“She's not,” Benji states as, clearly not wanting to miss a word of my tale, he gets up and drags the armchair closer to the coffee-table before sinking back down in it again and fixing me with a hopeful look. “Neither of us are, so... Please. Just get on with it.”

“Fine.” Sighing in capitulation, I release Jane's hand and start.

“We were still debating where to go to lunch when my phone rang and it was Hunley giving us the good news that he'd agreed to Six's request for our services and that they were already on their way to talk to us. Although I tried to get more information out of him, it didn't get me anywhere and he'd basically just finished telling me to do as I was told when the intercom buzzed and there they were. Taylor, the agent running the op, and McAllister, his section head. They came in, Taylor loudly announced that there was no way in hell that I'd do, and from then on they basically directed all of their attention to Will.”

“Because he didn’t look like Quasimodo?” Jane offers only... slightly... facetiously.

“Pretty much, yeah. Of the two of us, Will was chosen as the better option to be delivered to Jenkinson as, and... how did Taylor put it again? Uh... That's right. 'His night's entertainment'.”

“A whore, in other words.”

“They're called rent-boys over here,” Benji corrects, quickly holding his hands up in a 'what?' gesture as Jane snaps her head around to glare at him. “Well... They are.”

“And this changes things... how... exactly?”

“It doesn't. I was just...”

“And as... I... was just saying,” I interrupt, shutting them both down with narrow eyed look of my own, “Will was designated as the chosen one to... entertain... Jenkinson and, no, it was never under the expectation of having to go all the way. Six having their own version TR-81, all Will had to do was get some of it on to Jenkinson's skin in order for them to be able to track his movements and, okay, it certainly came across as being simple enough. Not only did it come with it's own inoculation, meaning he wouldn't end up being traceable himself, but it was also hidden in a small bottle of massage oil, so all he had to do was sedate Jenkinson once they were alone, apply the oil, fix the scene a bit to look like Jenkinson had had a far greater time than he really had, and... that was it. In and out.”

“But...” Jane prompts, giving me an expectant look. “As that sounds all very simple, what aren't you telling us? Does this Jenkinson look like Jabba the Hutt or something? Actually... What's Six's interest in the guy anyway? What's he accused of?”

“That would be on a need to know basis,” I mutter, “and before you ask, no, we didn't make it onto the list.”

“Okay. So definitely pimped out, then.”

“You said it, not me.”

“So... What aren't you saying here? Even if he does look like a fat green space slug, all Will has to do is knock him out and pour some oil on him, so...” 

“As I was... privileged... enough to see a picture of the guy, you're not far wrong in your description of him looking like a slug, but...”

“Come on Ethan, spill!”

“You didn't see Will's reaction, okay!” I snap as, Jane's eagerness to get to the bottom of what's going on here gets the better of me, I let her have it. The unease, the gnawing doubt in the pit of my stomach, the concern, the... feeling as though I don't really know what's going on myself, the hours I've spent since the Six guys took Will off with them dwelling on the mass of confusion in my head. All of it. She can have it all. “He... He didn't want to do it. He never said anything and, in a monotone, merely agreed to everything that was being put to him, but I could see it. It was in his eyes, this... I don't know, this look of anxiety or apprehension. Taylor and McAllister couldn't see it, but I could. He... To put it simply, he looked as though the thought of what was to come was making him want to throw up.”

“Well... You know Will,” Benji murmurs. “He's never come across as being particularly comfortable around anything of... uh... a sexual nature, and... uh... in all the time I've known him I've never seen him... uh... go off with anyone, so... I don't know. Maybe he was just worried that his seduction skills were a little rusty.”

“Or maybe it has something to do with that sealed section of his personal file,” Jane states, hitting the nail square on the head as she catches my eyes and sighs. “That's what you're thinking too, isn't it, Ethan? You think Will's unease at the op can be traced back to whatever happened to him before Croatia.”

“I...” Although I don't really want to, I nod. “I do. I could be way off track, and Benji could be right in that he just felt out of practice, but...”

“There's something hidden in that file,” Jane interjects, glancing somewhat pointedly at the iPad on the coffee-table before looking over at Benji. “Something that the Secretary at the time clearly felt worthy of sealing...”

“What? You're surely not suggesting I crack the seal on Will's file, are you?” Benji queries in a startled tone. “No. I... That wouldn't be right.”

“He's your friend, isn't he?”

“What? Of course he's my friend. And it's because he's my friend that I have no intention of snooping around in his file! If... If he wanted us to know what was in there then he would have told us.”

“Who? Will?” Jane snorts back dry laughter. “Pull the other one. Will is so damn private that he makes Ethan here seem positively... open... about his past.”

“That... Okay. Fine. You're right, but...”

“Don't you think that, as his friends, we'd be better placed to help him if we knew a little more about his past and Ethan's proven right in that this bullshit assignment has re-opened old wounds, huh?”

“I...” His resolve faltering in the face of Jane's carefully applied use of logic, Benji turns to me and shrugs. “Ethan? What do you think? Should I at least... try... to get into his file? I mean, if it would help him in the long run, I... I'd be willing to give it a go. Uh... For Will. Not, of course, just because we're curious.”

“Don't look at me,” I mutter as I stand up and, having already learnt that particular lesson, quickly shifting out of Jane's reach. “I'm not getting involved in this either one way or another.”

“But...”

“I get it, I do,” I interrupt, walking around the coffee-table to Benji and lightly touching my hand down on his shoulder. “Both sides of the argument, I'm all over it.” And, given that it's not like I haven't had this exact thought myself, I do. In fact, not that I'm going to mention this, I may even have gone so far as to get to the log on page of the personnel files before telling myself that, no, it wouldn't be right. “But, and I'm not going to say this again, I'm not getting involved.”

“That's not a... no,” Jane murmurs cautiously.

“But nor is it a... 'go right ahead' either,” Benji replies. “I... I don't know...”

“As it's not something I can answer for you, I'm going to have a shower and freshen up before Will gets back,” I state, neatly absolving myself from the ethical dilemma of whether or not the positives outweigh the negatives of hacking into Will's file as I start to move towards the short passageway that leads to the bedrooms. “Jenkinson's booking was for midnight, so...” I glance down at my watch and read that it's already half past twelve. “All being well he should be on his way back shortly.”

“You'll know?” Benji queries as he shifts from the armchair to settle himself on the sofa next to Jane.

“I will,” I confirm. “Will's got his phone, which is something I pulled rank and insisted on so, if need be, we can track him, and I made him promise to send me a message when its done and he's on his way.”

“So... We just wait.”

“That we do,” I reply with a sigh as, not feeling the urge to add anything further, I walk into the main bedroom, the one I scored courtesy of winning the heated game of Rock, Paper, Scissors we always indulge in when in comes to both choosing our sleeping quarters and keeping things fair, and pull the door closed behind me. Retrieving my phone from my pocket, I strip off my clothing and, leaving it all where it fell on the floor, walk naked into the en suite. Wanting to know the second Will is out of his op, I leave the phone where I can see it from the shower on the edge of the vanity unit, take my watch off and place it next to it, and, once the temperature is to my liking, step under the warm, steady stream of water.

Snatching the soap up, I pay scant heed to the still forming bruises littering my body and give myself a cursory wash. I then wash my hair with the same lack of attention shown to my body before closing my eyes and simply letting the water rain down over me. Thoughts hammer incessantly in my head and, for one of the few times in my life, I don't know what to do about any of them.

Is Will okay? He's a fully trained agent who knows the world isn't full of rainbows and kittens and should be prepared for shit like this. Plus, while slightly unpalatable, it's easy. Smile, flirt, play the game, sedate, mark, play the game a little longer, leave. He'll be fine.

But...

Ignoring the great unknown hidden in his file, the way he reacted to Taylor's explanation of the op... Sure, he did a good job of trying to hide it, but I could still see it. Clearly. The apprehension. For whatever reason, he didn't want to have to do it. He never came out and said no, but something about the op had him freaked. It was all in his eyes. The doubt, the... fear. Taylor and McAllister wouldn't have seen it, but I could.

Why?

And should I have put my foot down and, regardless of Hunley's assurance of our cooperation, told Six in no uncertain terms to fuck off? Or, if they had to have someone, they could have me? Make-up being capable of covering just about anything and everything, I could have been painted up to look presentable.

I...

I should have spoken up. Will clearly cared about what he was being made to do, whereas I wouldn't have.

Will, he...

Fuck.

I hope he's okay.

I just...

Having not exactly enjoyed close to twelve hours of my own company as I moped around the apartment, worrying about Will and mentally maligning Six and Hunley, I just want him back.

Here.

With me.

I could even...

I don't know.

Perhaps I could even, just casually, mind you, and certainly with no great expectations attached, mention just how damn much he means to me.

Better out than in, right?

I could let him know how I feel, and...

Yeah, Right.

I could. But it's highly likely that I won't.

I haven't up until now, so why upset the status quo?

Why...

… Take the chance?

So...

Moving on.

If the op turns sour, or Jenkinson hurts him, I'm really going to lose my shit.

But...

It won't. Nothing is going to happen.

Jenkinson will get tagged, I'll get Will back, and after bitching about having to work for Six for another day or two, life will go back to normal.

Won't it?

Although it takes a while, I eventually accept that my thoughts aren't getting me anywhere and open my eyes. Once I've blinked the water out of them, I glance through the glass at my phone and, seeing that there's no message up on the screen, sigh before turning the water off and getting out of the shower. After drying myself, I return my watch to my wrist and, grabbing my cell, return to the bedroom. Dropping the phone on to the bed, I retrieve, briefs, jeans, socks and a long sleeved T-shirt from my bag and have just finished getting dressed when there's a quick knock on the door and Jane's voice calls out, “You decent in there?”

“The very picture of virtue,” I retort, opening the door and gesturing her in to the room. Noticing the iPad in her hand as I take a seat on the edge of the bed, I give her a wry look and shake my head. “You ended up going there, didn't you?”

“No, and... kind of,” Jane replies, her expression glum as she takes a seat next to me on the mattress and drops the inactive tablet on her lap. “Benji decided that while, yeah, he could unseal the file, it would actually take too much time to do it properly, and, instead, suggested having a poke around in his medical reports of around that same time.”

“Oh... Because that's... far... less invasive,” I mutter drily as, knowing nonetheless that they've found something, I wait impatiently for her to get to the point.

“But they were sealed, too,” Jane replies, completely ignoring my sarcasm as she lifts up the iPad and activates it. “So... Nothing ventured, nothing gained and all that, we then decided, while in the medical section, to try our luck at the prescriptions bit, and...” Pausing, she quickly brings up the relevant screen and hesitates over handing the tablet over to me. “Don't ask me why, but for some reason that... wasn't... sealed, and...” Biting down on her bottom lip, she reluctantly slides the iPad onto my lap and taps her finger down on the list of medications filling the screen. “Look... Look at what he was prescribed.”

Looking down at the screen, I read what Jane's pointing to and groan. “Shit.”

“Yeah. Shit,” she agrees sadly. “I mean... It doesn't have to mean what we're automatically thinking it does,” she continues in a blandly hopeful tone as I stare down at the three letter acronym on the screen as though transfixed.

PEP.

Post-Exposure Prophylaxis. 

A course of treatment to hopefully prevent HIV after possible exposure.

“Ethan? Maybe... Come on. It doesn't have to mean that at all. Maybe it was simply a preventative measure after being exposed to blood. We... We don't know the cause of...”

“But... It would make sense, wouldn't it,” I murmur, hurriedly turning the iPad off before dumping it back on to Jane's lap. “The way he reacted to the op, this... this would make sense.”

Sexual assault or rape.

Rare, but far from impossible in our line of work.

Why settle for mere torture when you can really, in this case literally, fuck someone up?

Physical injuries heal, but, hey, if you can get into someone's head you can live there indefinitely. 

“We don't know,” Jane repeats faintly. “We... That is, Benji and I, we just thought you should know. It doesn't really answer anything, but...”

“It's pretty telling,” I finish. “It would also explain while the Secretary chose to seal that part of his file. I.. I just...”

“Don't want to think about it being so much as a possibility,” Jane murmurs in understanding as, without warning, she slings her arm around my shoulders and gives me a rough hug. “As, however, I'm absolutely positive that it doesn't have to change anything,” she adds, resting her head against mine, “you've got to stop pussy-footing around and tell Will how you feel about him. If... Uh... If he's even half as... uh... messed up as we think he might me, he deserves to know that you're firmly, if not entrenched, in his court.”

Surprised, both by Jane's insight and that she's chosen to... go with it, I stiffen in her embrace but, liking the comfort of her proximity, don't pull away. “I don't...”

“Don't even try fobbing me off with that... 'I don't know what you're talking about' bullshit,” she admonishes, lifting her head away from mine and shooting me a warning look. “William Brandt has been under your skin ever since Dubai and, again with not trying to deny it, it's only gotten worse since you returned to the fold after your little sojourn going after The Syndicate. Six months apart did nothing to cure you, yet... I don't know. Now that you've got him back you still hesitate which, I just have to say, isn't like you at all.”

“I don't...”

“Uh!” Jane rests her head back against mine and, somewhat to my astonishment, laughs. “If it helps, he feels the same way, you know.”

“I...” Not wanting to let on that she's caught my attention with this statement, I settle instead for giving a small shrug. “I don't know what...”

“He does. I can see it in the way he looks at you, or... looks for you when you're not there. I'm telling you, Ethan, Will's got it as bad as you do.”

“Jane...”

“Just hear what I'm saying, okay, and... decide what you want to do. Again, while I'm hoping we're wrong, I... I get the impression Will's going to need you more than ever after tonight...”

“We're...” Taking Jane's hand in mine, I squeeze it tightly for a few seconds before shrugging off her arm and standing up. “We're jumping to conclusions,” I state. “We don't know what the course of PEP was for, and as for...” A message flashing up on my phone taking instant precedence over trying to convince Jane that everything's far more peachy than it's actually looking, I snatch up my cell and breath a huge sigh of relief after I've read what's on it's screen.

'M A. Walking back to apt. now.'

“Mission Accomplished,” I murmur, holding the cell out for Jane to read the message herself. “He's on his way back.”

“From where?” she queries, standing up and tapping her finger on the phone. “Track him, so we know how far off he is.”

“Good idea.” Accessing the IMF locator app on the phone, I bring up Will's signal. “There. He's coming from somewhere behind the Globe Theatre on the other side of the Thames.”

“So... What? On foot it should take him about half an hour to get back here?”

“Something like that. I...” Shoving my phone into my pocket, I scoop up the woollen sweater I'd been wearing earlier from the floor and pull it on. “I'm going to go and try to meet him,” I mutter, kicking my boots closer to the bed before sitting down on it and putting them on. “You're welcome to join me if...”

“Thanks, but I'm fairly certain this is something best done on your own,” Jane smiles as she retrieves my leather jacket from the chair in the corner of the room and throws it at me. “Here. And... Be warned. It's cold and rainy out there.”

“I'll survive.” A sense of purpose filling me for the first time today, I put my jacket on and, as Jane holds the door open for me, plant a quick kiss on her cheek on my way past. “We'll get through this, you know. Whatever it is, we'll work together and... You'll see. It'll be all okay.”

“Just go and bring him home,” she replies, following me down the corridor. “And don't worry about Benji, I'll bring him up to speed.”

Nodding my thanks, I hurry through the living area and take the private elevator down to street level. As Jane had mentioned, the night air is cold and damp with the threat of pending rain but I barely feel it as, getting my phone back out of my pocket, I try to work out the route Will's most likely going to take back to Covent Garden. Noticing that his signal is now on Blackfriars Bridge, I decide that my best bet is Victoria Embankment and, with no plan whatsoever in regards to what it is I'm going to do when I find him, swiftly head through the darkened, near on empty streets in that direction.

Walking fast and focused solely on meeting Will and, for the time being, nothing more, I reach Victoria Embankment within fifteen minutes and just as the first few drops of rain begin to fall. Making my way down the stone steps, I scan the row of ornate park benches looking out over the Thames in the hope of being able to see Will. Spotting a person, although from where I'm standing it's impossible to tell whether it's male or female, let alone Will, sitting alone on the further most bench, I quickly check my phone and confirm that the little blue dot I was hoping to find in this general location is indeed on the Embankment before – mentally bracing myself – hurrying towards it. My footsteps sounding almost ridiculously loud in the otherwise close to silent night air, I slow down as I near the bench and, as my eyes make out the person sitting on it, for a dreadful, heart stopping moment think that something has gone terrible wrong with the tracking software. Either that, or Will's phone, for reason's completely unknown, has found its way into the pocket of a complete stranger and he's in the wind.

Which needless to say, especially in the case of MI6 who I'll tear through like a tornado if I don't get Will, very much in one piece, back tonight, doesn't bear thinking about.

Slowing my pace even further, I gaze at the man as he sits, slumped shoulder and staring down at his hands as they rest on his lap, in the shadow of the light given off by the nearby street lamp and try to process the scene as thoroughly and as clinically as I can manage given how on edge I feel.

Male. Caucasian. Medium height and of a slim build. Short hair of indeterminable colour. Inappropriate clothing, tight fitting waxy black jeans and a fitted black T-shirt, for the cold, rainy conditions. Oblivious to my presence.

Too well dressed to be homeless, so... High on God knows what after a night of hitting the clubs?

The agitation I'm feeling raising another notch as I near the end of the bench he's sitting on, I'm contemplating my next plan of action – be it shaking him until he tells me where he got the phone from or phoning that douche bag, Taylor, and losing my shit at him – when the man lifts his head and locks his delicately kohled eyes on mine, and...

Fuck me.

I think I may just very well lose it anyway.

Dressed in far too few clothes for the night air and with the inky black kohl around his eyes somehow making him look both entirely different and younger, the man on the bench is indeed Will and for a second I'm so startled by this realisation that it actually renders me speechless.

“I look that good, huh,” Will mutters drily as, hunching his shoulders, he hugs his arms around his torso and goes back to staring at his lap.

“I... Uh... Shit!” Shaking off my – bunny in the spotlights – shock, I quickly take off my leather jacket and drape it around Will's shoulders before taking a seat next to him and issuing forth with the first, vaguely coherent thought to enter my head. “You should have told me,” I state with a sigh. “Damn it, Will. I never would have allowed...”

“You broke the seal, then,” he murmurs in a dull, neutral tone as, without once glancing at me, he pulls the jacket on and, after doing up the zip, goes back to hugging himself in an attempt to get some warmth back in to his body. “Uh... Thanks for the jacket. If you need it back though, just...”

“I'm fine,” I interrupt, lifting, even though I know he's not looking at me, the thick woollen sweater I'm wearing to display the grey, long sleeved top underneath. “Unlike you I'm not going to freeze any time soon, and... No. We didn't break the seal on your file. Benji thought that it was too well protected to hack in a short time frame without raising the alarm back at HQ, so...” Trailing off, I let go of my sweater and, although it immediately causes him to flinch, lightly place my hand on Will's knee. “As your medical records were also sealed, we looked in to the medicine you've been prescribed over the years,” I add quietly, “and that's when we saw it. The course of...”

“As I remember it all too clearly, you don't have to say it,” Will states, cutting me off in the same emotionless tone he'd used the last time he'd spoken. “Wonderful stuff, and I'm grateful for the protection it offered, but, seriously, I don't think I've ever thrown up so much in my entire life. It... It was just another one of those gifts that kept on giving at the time.”

“You...” Unsure as to how best to proceed – in the face of disinterest – here, I lift my hand away from Will's knee and, as the rain drops begin to get closer together, follow his lead by staring down aimlessly at my lap. “You should have told me,” I repeat, sounding, even to my own ears, as helpless as I currently feel. “Ignoring the possible implications, mission wise, I'm your friend and...”

… I hate that I didn't know almost as much as I hate that it happened at all.

“It's not something I've ever felt any urge to talk about,” Will responds with a sigh. “It... This... It's my cross to bear, Ethan, and it... It's okay. I did what I had to do tonight and... and it doesn't matter. It's done. Six have got what they needed and I... I don't matter...”

“Bullshit you don't matter!” I retort as it hits me like a tonne of bricks that the agitation I've been feeling ever since I took Hunley's call this morning hasn't been dampened by having Will back by my side at all. In fact, in the face of his far-too-controlled and dispassionate behaviour it's only gotten worse. This... It just isn't right. I'm not saying I want to see him fighting to keep it together or coming across as all defensive, as I don't. Of course I don't. But this, this... blasé acceptance... isn't right either. “Of course you matter. Hell, you matter more to me than any fucking MI6 assignment and, damn it, Will, I... I just want to help!” I exclaim, the words falling out of my mouth in a rush as I lift my head in order to try, unsuccessfully as it happens, to catch his gaze. “I can't change anything or, more's the pity, undo the past, but I'm here now. Here... for you...”

“Then...” Unfolding his arms, Will stands up and, as an obvious grimace of pain flashes across his face, holds his left hand out towards me. “Take me back to the apartment,” he murmurs hopefully. “I'm cold, it's raining, and... I just want to have a shower and go to bed.”

“You're also hurt,” I comment with a grimace of my own as I place my hand in his and allow him to help me off the bench. “Will...” Dear God I don't want to be having to ask this. “What did he do to you?”

“I'm not hurt,” he counters, abruptly dropping my hand as he turns to stare out across the Thames. “Just a little... sore.”

“Sore?” I raise my right eyebrow. “You're not honestly going to stand there and argue the difference between hurt and...”

“He... He was just... enthusiastic, okay, and I... uh... I wasn't ready for it,” Will replies a tad breathlessly as, once again folding his arms around his torso, he begins to walk towards the steps. “Just... Please, Ethan, let it drop.”

Ready for... what?

Not liking the direction my thoughts are taking me in, I hurry to catch up with Will and, without thinking, grab his arm. “What are you talking about?” I demand, coming to a sudden stop. “Will... What weren't you ready for?”

Shaking off my hold on his arm as his eyes, unfamiliar – yet oh-so-compelling – in the midst of the expertly applied eyeliner, flash with pent up emotion, Will takes a step back and glares at me. “To have it shoved in to me!” he all but shouts. “For fuck's sake, Ethan, what did you expect...”

“But...” That's it. Next time I see Taylor I'm going to introduce my knee both forcefully and with extreme prejudice to the fucker's balls. “I thought...”

“Yeah. So did I,” Will mutters bitterly as, his anger dissipating as quickly as it had presented itself, he lowers his gaze to the ground and visibly slumps in front of me. “What Six ever so conveniently missed in their briefing though was that he always has a guard in the room with him. And... Uh... I mean... always.”

Which means...

… Simply knocking Jenkinson out was never, contrary to the way Taylor sold the operation, going to work.

Which, in turn means...

… Will – was effectively sold out – had to go through with his designated role of being nothing more than a body for hire. He couldn't just slip him the drug that, upon waking would have left him feeling as though there was nothing out of the ordinary, and actually had to let the bastard... 

Fuck!

Simply kneeing Taylor in the ball's isn't even going to come close to cutting it.

I groan. I can't help it. “Will...”

“He kept his back to the... uh... action, so to speak,” Will murmurs, directing his response to his feet, “but I... I couldn't... I... I had to let him...” A noise alarmingly akin to that of a wounded animal coming out of Will, he looks at me with such an expression of raw pain on his face that once again I can't help but simply react instinctively by immediately closing the distance that separates us and wrapping my arms around him. “I didn't want... I didn't want it to be like that, but...” Whimpering, he slumps against me and, as his fingers clench around my sweater, rests his head down on my shoulder.

Hugging him to me as though both our lives depended on it, I ignore the twinges of pain coming from my ribs and, all the time keeping my mind deliberately blank, focus solely on Will and the straightforward goal of getting him to calm down. “Hey... It's okay. Come on, Will. You're... okay,” I soothe, doing my best to rub reassuring circles in his back with the heel of palm. “It's over. Do you hear me? It's over.”

“It It'll never be... over,” he mumbles haltingly. “I thought... I tell myself that it's history, that... that I'm over it, but I... I'm not. I wanted to run from Taylor this morning and now, even now that it's over, I... I still want to run.”

“Hey... Shhh...”

“But I can't. I mean... Where would I go? And... And it wouldn't matter anyway. It would all still be there. In my head. Holding me hostage. I just...” Taking a deep breath, Will rests his hands flat on my chest and lifts his head just far enough to glance up at me. His pale face damp with either tears or rain, he makes for such a dejected, broken sight that it takes all of my willpower not to issue forth with an anguished whimper of my own. “I didn't want it to be like this,” he continues in a whisper. “Not again. I... I know it's not the same, that I've over-reacting, but... to not have a say, I... never wanted to be in that position again.”

“And you won't be,” I declare adamantly as, mentally crossing my fingers that I'm not stepping over invisible boundaries here, I take a small step back and cup my hands gently around his face. “Will... Look at me. You have my word that as long as I have breath in my body you will never be placed in that sort of position again. I'm sorry...”

“It's not your fault.” Sighing, Will pulls back from my touch and, having calmed down a little, shifts away from me. “As none of this is your fault, Ethan, please don't think you have to apologise for anything. I... I just did what I had to do, and you know that as well as I do.”

“I do,” I agree with a shrug. “I'm still sorry that it happened though.”

“Sorry you're stuck with my worthless ass, more like,” Will retorts flatly as he jams his hands in the pockets of his jeans and begins to once again walk towards the steps leading up from the Embankment. “You don't deserve this, Ethan, so...”

Catching up to him, I link my elbow around his and once again cause him to come to a stop. “And you think you do?” I query softly as, although he relaxes his arm enough to allow me to keep our elbows linked, he keeps his head lowered and won't look at me. “None of this is your fault either, you know. Shit... It just happens.”

“You don't need...”

“And neither do you!”

“I...” Falling silent, Will shrugs and, to my great relief, tightens his elbow around mine. “As I still really want that shower,” he murmurs, clearly doing his best to change the subject, “let's just go back to the apartment, yeah...”

Only too pleased to follow his lead in this instance, I readily nod my agreement. “Sounds good to me.”

There being nothing more that needs to be said for the time being, we make our way, side by side and with our elbows still linked, along the darkened, rain slicked London streets back to Covent Garden both lost in our thoughts and in reasonably comfortable silence. Thoughts, largely unwelcome and of varying degrees of unpleasantness crowd my mind but, drawing reassurance from the feel of Will's arm in mine, I'm able to work my way through them with the relative ease.

He's here.

I've got him.

Jenkinson, whose fat, over-tanned countenance from Six's surveillance photos keeps flashing before my eyes and making me dig my fingernails into the palm of my hand, may have... had... him, but he's here now.

More or less in one piece, and, again, I've got him.

Whatever it is that's been sealed away in his file must be bad. Real bad. Bad enough to bring him undone over two years later, and bad enough for him to think it's not something he'll ever fully recover from.

Fucking MI6 and their small 'favour'. And, while I'm at it, fucking Hunley for having agreed to it.

In fact... As he would be one of the very few to actually have access to Will's complete file, especially fucking Hunley. I know, I know. By keeping the full story to themselves – although whether this was sanctioned subterfuge or something Taylor undertook on his own remains to be seen – they would have sold the op to Hunley as being a mere walk in the park. Tag the suspect and disappear. No harm, no foul.

It could just have easily been me. If I hadn't been injured it... would... have been me. I'd have taken on the assignment and, okay, while I'd be pissed and still wanting to kick up a fuss at Six for having been kept in the dark, I'd be... fine. Put out, and wanting a shower, but...

Let's just say I've had to do worse things in my time and leave it at that.

Will, he... I can't tell myself that he could have simply refused the op, because he couldn't. Of course he couldn't. Regardless of his past or inner demons, he's still an IMF agent. And while 'no' isn't in our vocabulary, 'suck it up and get on with it' is. Will, despite his doubt and what I can only imagine to be a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, could have no more declined the assignment than he could have flapped his arms and flown away.

He wouldn't even have said no if he'd known the truth about the ever-present guard.

And it's the guard, the one that I'd bet my fucking life on Taylor having known all about, that's really sticking in my craw. If he'd come clean about it, while he still would have got his desired outcome of getting Jenkinson tagged, we would have been able to go about things differently and Will wouldn't be in the mess he's in now. Maybe Six don't have it, but we have an airborne sedative that can knock out all of those in a room that haven't immunised themselves against it first. Will could have used that on Jenkinson and his damn guard and gotten out of there unscathed. 

But no. Taylor had to keep the guard's existence from us, and now Will's having to pay the price.

Whatever that may end up proving to be.

Where do we go from here?

Will he retreat behind his defences and, come daylight, entrench himself in pretending this never happened?

What if I don't have it in me to be... enough... for him? Then what?

“Thank you for having come to meet me,” Will states, the sudden, unexpected sound of his voice pulling me from my thoughts and dragging me back to damp, dark reality. “It... I doubt you'll ever know how much it meant to me.”

“Well, you can take it as a given that I'll always come for you,” I reply, flashing him a bland smile as, it dawning on me that we've not only reached the apartment building but are already standing outside the entrance to the private elevator, I reluctantly remove my arm from around his and pull the swipe card out of my back pocket. “Will... Seriously. Just... Know this. In whatever capacity you might need me, I'll always be there for you.”

“I may just even be starting to believe it, too,” he responds, leaning forward and, to my great surprise, planting a soft, fleeting kiss on my cheek before taking the card from me and using it to open the doors of the elevator. “Now... Let's get out of this damn rain!”

Having been too caught up in my thoughts to have paid the now quite steadily falling rain any attention as we walked along, I notice for the first time that we're both dripping wet and, for the wont of something better to do, laugh drily. “That'll teach me for not having thought to bring an umbrella.”

“Don't worry, I don't hold it against you,” Will replies, grabbing my hand and pulling me into the elevator even before its doors have fully opened. Pressing in the code for our top floor apartment with his free hand, he gives me a resigned look and shrugs. “Benji and Jane...”

“Know as much from your file as I do,” I finish with a nod as, just in case he's thinking of letting go, I tighten my hand around his and give it a squeeze. “But it's nothing to concern yourself with as nothing's changed. All they both care about is you and that you're okay.”

“That, I suspect, would depend on their definition of okay,” he murmurs, “but... if you're sure...”

“I'm sure,” I confirm. “They just want you to be okay and, deep down, you know it because it's the same as you'd want for them, for... all of us.”

He nods and, as the elevator reaches our floor and the doors begin to slide silently open, graces me with a blink-and-you'd-miss-it smile. “You're right. All I've ever wanted is for those I care about to be okay. Now...” Sighing, he straightens his shoulders and, after letting go of my hand, steps out of the elevator and into the apartment. “At the risk of further lowering your opinion of me, I would appreciate it if...”

“I could run interference in order to clear a path to the bathroom?” I offer, following him out the elevator as, completely on cue, Benji and Jane swivel their heads in unison to stare at us from their position on the sofa in front of the television. “Oh... And enough of that. My opinion of you is as high as it's ever been.”

“I'd argue, but... I need the protection,” Will mutters, lowering his gaze and shifting around me so he's behind my back. “Please... I know it's cowardly of me, but I... I can't. Not now. They... They don't need to see me like this.”

“You're fine,” I assure him in a whisper, “but... I've got this.” Plastering a bright and hopefully not too obviously fake smile across my face, I shove Will in the direction of small corridor that sections off the open plan living area and kitchen from the bedrooms and, as he walks off, gesture at him. “Hey,” I exclaim, locking my gaze on Jane's and shooting her a warning look as she places her hand on Benji's chest in an attempt to get him to stay seated on the sofa. “Look who I found.”

“Hey yourself,” Jane responds with a bright, knowing smile of her own as, her expression not betraying what she happens to think of Will's unfamiliar appearance, she settles back down on the sofa. “All good?”

“Dripping wet and perhaps just a little bit freezing, but otherwise all good.” Running my fingers through my hair, I grimace at how much water falls to the floor from that small act and start to walk after Will. “As you can see, however, a shower is very much needed, so...”

“Well, you know where to find us,” Benji pipes up as he shares a look with Jane before reluctantly turning his attention back to whatever it is they're trying to watch on the television. “It... Ethan. It's just good to have you both back.”

Detouring via the back of the sofa, I give Jane's shoulder a quick squeeze and murmur, “It's good to be back,” before hurrying after Will and following him into the bedroom he's been sharing with Benji. “There. Nothing to it,” I comment, beating Will to his bag by the foot of the bed and picking it up. “Come on, as I don't think you need to be sharing a room tonight you can shower in my en suite before having my bed.”

“I don't want to put...”

“I think you'll find the only response required here is 'thank you',” I state with an airy shrug as I usher Will out of the room and use the bag to point towards the apartment's main bathroom. “Now, how about going to get your toothbrush while I dig around in your bag for some pyjamas...”

“Thank you,” Will dutifully replies as, clearly more than happy to have someone else do the thinking for him at the moment, he wanders towards the bathroom.

Although I'm unsure as to whether I should be pleased or worried about his easy acceptance at being told what to do, I nonetheless push the thought to the back of my mind and make my way into the bedroom. Placing the bag on the bed, I unzip it and quickly ferret through the neatly packed contents until I come to a pair of black cotton pyjama pants and a light grey, long sleeved T-shirt. Knowing that they're what Will usually sleeps in, I place them on the bedside table and have just dropped the bag on to the floor and am in the process of kicking it over into the corner when he walks into the room and waves a toothbrush at me.

“One toothbrush, as requested,” he murmurs, grabbing his pyjamas on the way into the bathroom. “Are you sure though that you don't want the first shower? I... Uh... I may be a while and I don't want you...”

“All I need is a towel and I'm good,” I interrupt, sidling past him and snatching up the first towel on the rack. “I had a shower earlier so, seriously, once I'm dry and changed I'm as good as I'm going to get.”

“If you're positive that's...”

“I'm positive.” Pausing by Will, I place my hand momentarily on his shoulder and smile. “Just... Take as long as you like. You know where we all are and that... we're here if you need us.”

Nodding, he rests his hand on mine for all of a second before shifting away and dropping both his pyjamas and toothbrush down on the vanity unit. “Ethan... Thank you,” he replies quietly as, reaching for the zip of my leather jacket, he hesitates over pulling it down while he's got an audience. “I know I've already said it, but thank you for... uh... everything.”

“Like I said before, if you ever need me, I'll be there,” I respond matter-of-factly as, the time having come to take my leave, I back out of the bathroom. “Now, enjoy your shower and I'll see you shortly.” Pulling the door fully shut after me, I throw the towel on to the bed and quickly strip off my sodden clothes before towelling myself dry and dressing in navy blue pyjama pants and a white tank top. I then retrieve my cell from the pocket of jeans and, without pausing to second guess myself or apply a little self-preservation themed logic to the moment, bring Hunley's number up on the screen and press call.

Wanting to kill the two proverbial birds with one stone with this call, I walk out of the room and, as the phone continues to ring, make my way into the kitchen. As I'd hoped, Jane and Benji both turn around to face me as Hunley finally answers just as I've gotten a bottle of water out of the refrigerator.

“Hunt.” Not that I have any intention of ever telling him this, but the amount of contempt the Secretary manages to inject into his pronunciation of my surname is something else again. “For what do I owe the honour at this random hour?”

“Don't tell me I've interrupted a hot date, sir?” I query facetiously as I unscrew the lid of the bottle with my free hand and take a long drink of water.

“As, unlike you, some of us mere mortals need to sleep, I'd... not, incidentally that it's any of your Goddamn business... been getting ready to go to bed,” Hunley retorts with a long suffering sigh as, glancing at the time on the microwave, I see that it's nearing four in the morning in London which, in turn, means it's closing in on eleven at night in D.C.. “Now, not that it's not a wondrous pleasure to hear your voice, Hunt, just what exactly is it that you want?”

“Oh...” I drop a wink at Jane and quietly put the phone on speaker as, wanting to be closer to the action, she gets off the sofa and takes a seat on one of the stools in front of the breakfast bar. “I'm pissed off, and, well, as everyone here knows it, I wanted you to be aware of it, too.”

“That you're pissed off?” he retorts. “What the...” Stopping himself from continuing, he sighs again and, with sarcasm all but dripping literally off his tongue, adds, “Okay. Fine. Although I'm sure I'll only live to regret this, I'll bite. So, tell me, Agent Hunt, what's got your panties all in a bunch this early in the Goddamn morning? If, however, it's the secondment to Six again, take my advice and build a fucking bridge already and get over it. You may not like it, but...”

“Oh, I get it, sir. I do. If the Powers that Be decree it then we're to simply bend over and take it all in the name of inter-agency diplomacy, then that’s what we do.”

“What are you talking about? The op was a cake walk. It was also one that I'd vetted myself...”

“You did, did you?”

“I did. Contrary to your opinion on the subject I take the loaning out of my agents very seriously and I wouldn't have agreed to it if I hadn't been confident that you, or a member of your team could handle it.”

“Yeah, well, we'll get to that. Oh... And while you might say... loaning, I personally think... pimping... would be more apt.”

“What?” Hunley sighs in mounting exasperation and, from the sounds of it, pours himself a large drink of some description.

“Look. If it had been me I wouldn't have cared. You know me, sir, I'll always willingly take one for the team, but... Will? You may be the only person alive to have read his complete file and... and to sign off on placing him in the situation you did tonight is incomprehensible.”

“What on earth are you talk...” Trailing off, Hunley takes a gulp of drink as, curiosity getting the better of him, Benji wanders over and leans on the breakfast bar. “The op was clean,” he mutters defensively. “In and out. There was absolutely no reason for things to go any further than they had to and, while I'm at it, I didn't care who, as you keep putting it, took one for the team. If it was Brandt then that's not my...”

“No, it's not your fault that looking like I currently do I'd be lucky to seduce a blind person and that, because of this, the role ended up being Will's. It may not even be your fault that Six withheld imperative information and...”

“What?”

“As I just said, sir, MI6 withheld information that was of tantamount importance to the op and it's this, along with having to pick up the pieces of a very good agent who didn't deserve any of this, that's currently pissing me off and making me wonder whether or not it would be a good idea to pay a visit to Vauxhall Cross in order to share this with them myself.”

“Just hang on a second there, Hunt. You can't go around making accusations about the Secret Intelligence Service without being able to back them up.”

“That... in and out, cake walk you blithely sent Will on?” I grind out, slamming the bottle down on the counter with such force that water spills everywhere. “It was a set-up. Jenkinson had a fucking guard in the room the whole entire time and, as I'm sure you're already getting the sordid picture here, Will had to go... far further... than he should have had to in order to achieve the all important fucking goal!” Taking a deep breath that does nothing to calm me down, I avoid looking at either Jane or Benji and start to pace around the kitchen. “Are you following me yet, sir? Will, who I'm sure you know more about than I do, was sold out by fucking Six and... Damn it! It's pissing me off!”

“If what you're saying is true then, congratulations, you've succeeded in pissing me off as well,” Hunley responds after a moment's silence. “Hunt, are you certain...”

“And the reason I'd make this bullshit up is because...”

“There's no need to be like that.”

“No? I don't like being lied to, and I especially don't like it when one of my agents is made to pay the cost.”

“Brandt, he...”

“If you must know he's probably holding it together better than I am at the moment.”

“That's not much of an answer.”

“He'll survive,” I retort flatly. “He's physically uninjured as far as I can gather.”

“What about mentally?”

“Remains to be seen.”

“Now... You're sure this is Six's error, that the guard couldn't have just been a new addition?”

“You read the file. Given the amount of surveillance collected on Jenkinson and how paranoid the bastard is, do you believe for a moment that they weren't aware of the guard, huh? They knew of him and, because they didn't want to make it too obvious that they were getting another agency to do their dirty work for them, they kept him out of their report.”

“I see.” Hunley sighs again and pours himself another drink. “Remind me again of the name of the agent running the op.”

“Taylor,” I spit his name out and, catching Jane's concerned gaze, pull a face. “Low life prick.”

“Taylor? As I doubt that's an uncommon name...”

“Bradley Taylor.”

“And his commanding officer?”

“Keith McAllister.”

“Leave them to me,” he declares in an ominous tone that, dare I say it, is like music to my ears. “I will not have the IMF being taken for fools and, whether you choose to believe me or not, Hunt, I'm genuinely sorry that this has happened. You're certainly correct in that Brandt didn't deserve to be placed in a compromising situation like this and that, if I had known the full story I never would have put your team forward.”

“Sir.”

“I accept that this may not account for much, but... Take a week off. All of you. God knows you're a tight knit bunch, so... Do what you can do to repair the damage and I'll see you all back in D.C. in seven days.”

“Sir.” I look at Benji, who's perked up considerably at hearing that we have a week off, and – very much feeling a sense of... Mission Accomplished – grin.

“Oh... And, Hunt? Never forget that, for once, this isn't all about you...” His piece said, Hunley ends the call without another word.

“Well, there you have it,” I comment, glossing over his parting comment as, picking up my cell, I terminate the call at this end. “Hunley will tear Six a new one, and we have a week off. I don't know about you, but I'd say that was a win, win.”

“Or a Pyrrhic victory, depending on how you look at it,” Jane replies, casting a pointed glance in the direction of the bedrooms.

“It's still better than what we had,” I reply with a shrug as, grabbing a dishcloth, I mop up the spilt water. “I... Look. I agree with you, of course I do, but...”

“It's still better than what we had,” she echoes, getting down off the stool and stretching her arms above her head. “Everything you said to Hunley, it's true, yeah? Six fucked us over?”

I nod. “Big time.”

“And it's just made even worse that it had to be Will who copped it...” Pausing, she looks once again over towards the bedrooms. “Has he said anything about...”

“He hasn't had to,” I murmur, placing the lid back on the bottle and rolling it between my palms. “He... I hate to say this, but I think we've only seen the tip of the iceberg.”

“But he'll be okay, right?” Benji queries anxiously. “I know we don't know his past. Uh... Hell. I don't even... want... to know it, but... Will, he's our friend and I don't want him to be in a bad place.”

“He'll be fine,” Jane assures him in a confident tone that doesn't quite match the doubt in her eyes. “We'll make sure of it, won't we, Ethan?”

I nod again and, because I feel the time has probably come to check back in with the cause of all of our concern, start to walk out of the kitchen. “Of course we will,” I state with conviction. “Now, as I hadn't even been aware of it being quite this late, perhaps the time has come to go to...”

“Do you think it could be payback?” Benji suddenly interjects, cutting me off in his haste to immediately follow through with the thought that's just popped into his head. “I mean, could Taylor or McAllister still be loyal to Atlee or, hey, even that sick arsehole, Lane, and this was just their crappy way of getting back at IMF?”

“As ideas go, it makes a sadly reasonable amount of sense,” Jane sighs. “As I bet they would have wanted Ethan though, and poor Will...”

“Just got caught in the crossfire,” I finish with a low groan that I'm too slow to keep to myself. “Fuck! If that's the case...”

“It may not be that at all,” Jane states in a gentle tone as, shaking her head at Benji in a way that tells me she wants him to keep any other opinions he might have on the subject to himself, she places her hand on my shoulder and pushes me in the direction of the bedrooms. “Maybe it was personal. Maybe it was just a grudge against the whole of the IMF. Maybe it was the only way they could get it past Hunley. Just... Who knows. What's more, as there's nothing we can fucking do about it now, there's no point fixating on it. Ethan, just... Go to Will, and we'll see you both in the morning.”

Quickly deciding that Jane's right and that now isn't the time to go for a few quick rounds of self-recrimination and loathing at the thought of being somehow responsible for any of this, I wearily nod my acceptance and, turning around, give her a brief hug. “As I've given Will my bed, Benji will probably see me in a...”

“No he won't,” she smiles, hugging me back before ruffling my hair and making shooing gestures for me to get a move along. “You'll be staying with Will, and... Uh!” She raises her hand in a show of mock warning as I open my mouth to disagree. “Don't argue with me and just go.”

“But...”

“Go!”

Lacking the energy to tell Jane that she's wrong and that, there being no reason for me stay with Will, I'll definitely be seeing Benji shortly, I simply give a non-committal shrug and begin to walk off. “Well... Good night, then.”

Entering the bedroom to a chorus of 'good nights' and 'sleep wells', I place my phone and bottle on the bedside table and have just started to turn down the bed when Will exits the bathroom and comes to stand directly behind me.

“There...” Tensing, not at what could be called his invasion of my personal space but at what I feel as though I have no choice but to share with him, I sigh heavily and keep my gaze trained on the pillows. “There's been some suggestion that this could have been payback,” I state hollowly as, for reasons known only to himself, Will wafts his hand barely millimetres above my bare shoulder. “Taylor or McAllister... For all we know they could have some misguided loyalty towards either Atlee or Lane and this... this could have been meant as a general 'fuck you' to the IMF or... uh... perhaps it could have even been solely for my benefit. I just...” I swallow hard as goosebumps break out across my skin in response to Will lightly trailing his finger along the nape of my neck. “I just thought that you should know that there's every chance this is my...”

“This one may scar,” Will interrupts, going off on a tangent entirely of his own making as he ghosts his hand over the nasty cut on my right shoulder. “I know that it didn't require stitches, which is something, but...”

“Were you even listening to what I was just saying?” Caught off guard by Will's interest in my bare skin and its unsightly mass of bruises, abrasions and knife wounds caused by my run in with Chau's men, I shift away from him and throw myself into getting the bed ready. “Will? This could have been meant for me.”

“Yet they got me instead,” he replies in an indifferent tone as, respecting my need for space, he takes a step back and sighs. “I heard you, but it doesn't matter. What's done is done and all that. Whoever it was behind the missing intel had their reasons, and knowing them won't make one iota of difference. I... I'm taking it like the special fucking snowflake I am because of things in my past that, you're right, I should have told you about, but... Listen to me. It's not your fault. You weren't to know. Hell. Even Six weren't to know this Goddamn mess would be the end result. So... Don't. Don't blame yourself for something out of your control.”

“Yeah. Well. I still think it's probably a good job that it's going to be Hunley reading the riot act to them and not me,” I mutter with a small shrug. “Oh, and before you ask, yeah, he's up to speed and, along with being as pissed off as I am, he's also given us a week off, so...”

“A silver lining, then,” Will interjects. “Still... I'm glad that he knows and that the fireworks are going to come from the top. And... A week off? I'll take that regardless of the circumstances.”

“I just wish...” Wearily accepting that there's nothing to be gained by stating the damn obvious, I shut my mouth and, the bed now ready to simply climb into, turn around to face Will. “Oh!” A snort of laughter escapes my lips at the sight that greets me and, knowing that I don't possess the required products to fix it, immediately start to move towards the door. “I'm taking it that you didn't look in the mirror while you were in the bathroom...”

Will, as a slight frown crosses his face and does nothing to improve the cause of my momentary amusement, shrugs and sits down on the edge of the bed. “As I knew I wouldn't like what I saw, no, I didn't look in the mirror.”

“Hey, that much is obvious,” I respond as, choosing to turn a deaf ear to the first part of his response, I give another snort of laughter and walk out of the room. “Just... Don't go anywhere.”

“Where else am I going to go?”

“Looking like that? My advice would be... nowhere!”

Disappearing into the main bathroom before he's had time to reply, I grab Jane's functional-and-far-from-feminine black toiletry bag from next to the basin and dig around in it until I come to something I think should achieve my aim of ridding Will once and for all of the eyeliner ringing his eyes. While I suspect he may have tried rubbing it off in the shower, as it's clearly – industrial strength – waterproof all he managed to do was... spread... it as opposed to getting it off and, as referenced by my sudden merriment, the result is that he now looks somewhat panda-eyed.

Make-up removing wipes, impregnated with something called Micellar water that while it admittedly means nothing to me seems to be very important to the manufacturer going on how much space the claim takes up on the packaging, obtained, I return to the bedroom and hold them out towards Will. “If these don't do the trick, you're on your own.”

“I hope you realise that I've got no idea what you're going on about here,” Will grumbles through a yawn as he glances with obvious curiosity down at the package in my hands. “I mean, you... might... be making sense to you, but...”

“You'll see.” Taking a seat on the mattress next to him, I pull out a wipe and murmur, “Close your eyes.”

Shrugging his acceptance, Will swivels to better face me and closes his eyes. “Oh,” he whispers, realising instantly what's going on as I very gently apply the wipe to his left eye. “That.”

“That,” I echo, placing the now quite blackened wipe on my knee and grabbing a fresh one before carefully cleaning the eyeliner from Will's right eye. “Now, I'm not sure what should alarm me more. Just whatever it is in the eyeliner that makes it impervious to plain water, or just what the hell it is in this Micellar stuff that make short work of it.”

“Don't care,” Will mutters. “So long as it gets it off it could be acid based for all that I care.”

“That, I think, is taking things a little too far.” The wipes having worked their magic on the eyeliner and returned my pale and tired friend to looking more like himself, I sit back and admire my handiwork for a couple of seconds before balling them up and getting to my feet. “You can open your eyes now.”

“Thanks.” Blinking his eyes, Will somehow resists the urge to rub them with his fingers and yawns again. “Taylor had a female agent come in and put it on me because, and I quote, 'Jenkinson gets off on shit like that'.”

“We-ell... Before the panda-eyed look caused by the shower took over, it... uh...” Not liking the taken aback expression on Will's face as he stares up at me, I shrug and, entering the en suite, throw the wipes into the bin. “What I'm trying to say is that it didn't look bad,” I add a touch lamely, walking back into the room. “I'm not saying I... uh...”

“He called me beautiful,” Will announces over the top of me as he folds his hands in his lap and gazes down at them. “It... It made my skin crawl.”

I come to a stop in front of him and crouch down. “Who did? Taylor?”

“Jenkinson,” he replies, closing his eyes as a visible shudder works its way through his body. “Even before he'd stripped me and had me on my knees, he said that I was beautiful and that he could see why I... I did what I did to make a living! He looked at me, and all he could see was a whore! It... It was like I was back there all over again, like nothing had ever changed. Oh God... I just...”

“Hey... Shhh... That's enough of that.” Quickly pushing aside the thought that perhaps I may have been a little hasty in handing over the task of lecturing MI6 to Hunley, I shift onto the bed next to Will and drape my arm around his shoulders. “Now, whether this is going to help or not,” I murmur, mentally crossing my fingers that this isn't going to the wrong thing to say entirely, “you are beautiful, and...”

“No I'm not.”

“Well I beg to differ.”

“You're just trying to grab my attention so that I can move on from the noise in my head and get a fucking grip.”

“Possibly, but it still doesn't alter the fact that I think you're beautiful. In fact... Don't you know that the only reason I ever wanted you on my team was so that I could look at you all the time?”

Opening his eyes, Will gives me a wry look and, to my relief, smiles. “While I still say you need your eyes tested,” he replies, relaxing against me, “thank you. If nothing else it sounds a hell of a lot less creepy coming from you.”

“That's because I know the real you, both inside and out,” I respond, tightening my arm around his shoulders and pulling him just that little bit closer.

Stiffening, he abruptly pulls away from me and shakes his head. “That's just it. You don't. You don't know the real me at all,” he mutters, giving me a pained look. “Ethan...”

“I still like what I both see and have come to know,” I interrupt as, not wanting to run the risk of taking advantage of Will's tired and emotional state in terms of making him feel as though he owes me anything, I stand up and gesture at the bed. “Now... Do you want anything? Painkiller? Sleeping pill? A drink?”

“I want you,” Will replies simply as, noticing my surprise, he shrugs and directs his gaze in the general vicinity of my feet. “That... You asked me what I want, and... uh... it's you. I don't want to be alone and whether this sounds rational to you or not, nor do I even want to... feel... alone. Not... Not this time.”

“Uh...” Silently cursing Jane for somehow having seen this coming when I hadn't, I look over at the – designed to be aesthetically pleasing as opposed to comfortable – chair in the corner of the room and turn to walk over to it. “Okay. If it'll help I'm happy to sleep in the...”

“Not in the chair. In the bed. With me,” Will states in a soft, only one small degree off pleading, tone. “I... I'm not kidding when I say I don't want to so much as feel alone. I know I'm over-reacting, and that you'd be totally in the right to write me off as a bad joke, but...”

“I'd love to sleep with you,” I declare in a shaky tone as, already having heard enough, I change course and head into the en suite. “Just give me a minute or two and I'll be right with you.” Shutting the door, I focus my attention on the mundane tasks of relieving myself and cleaning my teeth in preference to thinking about just what exactly it is that's happening here and in less than five minutes am standing with my hand hovering over the light switch. “Now... You're sure about this?”

“Very sure,” Will, who's already sitting up in bed with the covers pulled up to his waist, confirms as he pats the mattress next to him.

“Okay then.” Quashing any lingering misgivings I might have in regards to this perhaps not being the best idea Will's ever had, I turn the light off and climb into bed next to him. “If at any time...”

“I'm not going to lose my shit at having you in bed next to me,” Will interrupts, giving my arm a quick squeeze before sliding down the mattress and, once the bedding is to his liking, settling himself on his side with his back to me. “I know you're probably thinking I'm all sorts of fragile or bat-shit crazy, but if you're really my friend you won't begrudge me this... one night.”

“I'm your friend, and I'd never begrudge you anything.” Biting back a sigh, I make myself comfortable on my back and pull the covers halfway up my chest. “Just... Go to sleep, yeah? I'm here, I'm not going anywhere, and I think the best thing for you right now would be to just close your eyes and put this crappy day behind you.”

“That's just it. It's never behind me. I start to think, to... hope... that I'm finally getting to a point where I can move on and try my hand at being... normal... again, but I'm not. It's always there, holding me back, and it just...”

“Eats at you,” I finish quietly. “Will, I know I don't know the full story, but...”

“I'll tell you,” he whispers, not only cutting me off but also rendering me immediately silent. “It's not a story I want to tell, but… but you deserve to know the truth.”

“You don't have to say another word if you don't...”

“I don't. Oh God, Ethan. You have no idea how much I don't want to, but...”

“Then don't.” I'm not for a second saying I don't want to know Will's story as, being only human and as curious as the next person, of course I want to know what happened to cause him to be the way he is. What's more, if I'm ever going to be able to help him, I actually... need... to know. I'm just not convinced that now is the time, that's all. He's tired and emotional, and I don't want him to do anything, like laying himself bare simply because he feels as though he has to and doesn't actually have a choice in the matter, that he may only regret when we wakes up. “Will, please just go to sleep. I'm not going anywhere and, if it's still what you want, you can always tell me in the...”

“It was just over two years ago,” Will murmurs, his voice muffled by either bedding or a hand held up near his mouth. “My mission, as IMF suspected him of wanting to move up in the world of arms dealing by getting his hands on an experimental nerve agent, was to ingratiate myself in to Alberto Moretti's New York Operations. Moretti was a small time Mafia wannabe, but intel had him sniffing around a chemical lab with ties to the Military and that's where I came in.”

“Will... Seriously. It's okay. You don't have...”

“Please. Just let me get this out. Then, once I've finished, you can judge me or kick me out of bed or...”

“Hey! Back up a minute. I'm telling you now that there's nothing you can say that will make me kick you out of bed.”

“You say that now,” Will sighs as, seemingly bracing himself for what he already feels to be inevitable, he squirms closer to the edge of the mattress. “Ethan, just... let me talk. Now that I've started I just want it all over and done with.”

“But...”

“My first task was to make myself invaluable to Moretti,” he states, picking up where he left off and effectively leaving me with no option but to wave the invisible flag of defeat. “As his second-in-command already had ideas above his station and fingers in more pies that Moretti was aware, that in itself was quite simple and within three weeks I was installed as his right hand man. Cabella though, he... uh... he didn't take this fall from both grace and power well and not only did he blame me, but... uh... he also held a grudge. One that... uh... no-one saw coming. Not me, not the analysts in charge of the Moretti op, not my Operations Manager, Whitaker, not... anyone. My cover, it... it worked perfectly, because when Cabella came for me he came because I'd undermined him and caused him to lose face, not because I was IMF. He... He came because he hated me and because he wanted to make me pay before he killed me and left what was left of my corpse on Moretti's doorstep. It... Oh God... It came out of nowhere. We knew him to be a hot head, sure, but nothing in his file indicated his jealousy or... sadism...”

Although I want to interrupt here by either begging Will to keep the rest of his tale to himself or by being a little more proactive by reaching over and clamping my hand over his mouth, I keep my lips pressed closely together and don't move so much as a muscle. Just call me psychic, but I'm fairly certain I don't want to hear anymore. Not...

… If I think it's going to be as bad as I'm already picturing it's going to be.

Sealed file. The course of PEP. His reaction tonight. The tell-tale use of the word sadism.

Oh yeah. I... so... don't want to know.

“I'd just completed my twenty-four hur daily check-in when he came for me. As I wasn't expecting it and he came armed with enough sedative to take down an elephant, it was neither a long, nor fair fight and... and that was it, he had me...” His breath catching in his throat, Will breathes deeply for a few moment's before continuing in a faint, faltering tone. “Cabella, he... It was personal to him, so he wanted to make me suffer. And he did this, not by simply torturing me, but by making it... uh... sexual. He... Oh God... My entire body. There... There wasn't so much as an inch of it that he didn't find a use for. And the pain, and... and the drugs he kept pumping in to me to make sure I remained conscious and... uh... oh God... aroused. Even my skin felt as though it was on fire and there was no relief, just... more. Always more. I... I keep trying to tell myself that I don't remember, that it's all just a blur, but I do. I do remember it. All of it. From the insane look on his face, to his taste and... uh... the feel of him inside me. It was relentless. He... He raped me for hours and then, when he wanted a break, he turned me over his men. I... I thought I was going to die. I... wanted to die...”

I open my mouth to croak his name, to plead with him to end his tale here as I've already heard more than enough, but the salty taste of tears dripping on to my tongue stops me. Tears that... I hadn't even been aware I was shedding.

I...

IMF not taking the sealing of files lightly, I knew it was going to be bad.

This, though...

This is worse than bad.

This is...

… Hoping that Cabella fucker is in the ground already, because if he's not I'm going to dedicate myself to putting him there.

… Saying to hell with logic and reason and wishing for a time-machine to travel back to that time in order to stop it from ever having happened.

… Wanting to wrap my arms around the the amazing, resilient and precious man next to me and never, ever let go.

“Clearly I didn't die,” Will murmurs hoarsely. “Not liking that I was missing, Moretti rallied the troops to find me and, after hearing what was going on and that Cabella was considered to be the most likely suspect, our surveillance was able to swoop in and do the rest. The op, needless to say, was a bust, but Cabella, he... he ended up in a body bag while I ended up having a stint in the infirmary before being shipped off to Sanctuary, so... uh... the general belief is that I got the better end of the deal.”

“Of course you did,” I somehow manage to choke out as not even the relief of knowing that Cabella is already dead manages to put an end to the silent tears. “You're still here, and...”

“I didn't want to be,” he declares solemnly. “I hurt all over, the PEP was making me throw up all the time, and... and nobody wanted anything to do with me. Don't get me wrong, the doctors and nurses were all lovely and doing their best to put me back together again, but to everyone else I was... used goods.”

“Don't say that. I'm sure...”

“Garbage, then. I was dirty, and useless, and... no-one wanted to know me. Whitaker came once to get my statement, and the look of disgust on his face when I had to keep stopping to vomit was something else again, and all of my so-called friends, while they dutifully sent flowers not one of them actually came to see me. As for... uh... my lover, he simply dumped the few belongings I'd left at his place in the hands of the first nurse he encountered in the parking lot. Okay, it had been more casual than serious, but his actions... while they didn't break my heart, they... They broke what was left of me and I... I couldn't cope. I couldn't cope with what I'd clearly been reduced to in everyone's mind and, too broken to see anyway out, I spent months at Sanctuary as the psychs struggled to put me back together again.”

“But...” Willing myself to get a fucking grip as, hey, it's not as though this is about me, I blink back tears and manfully resist the urge to sigh. “They succeeded. I mean... You got out...”

“I got out because the Secretary at the time personally came and told me that he'd read my file and he believed that I was wasted just killing time in the, his words, nut house. He also said, and if any of the doctors had said this already I'd somehow not heard it, that I wasn't to blame for any of it and that I couldn't let it beat me.”

“And you listened to him?”

“I did. I looked around at my room, at the little safe and secure hidey-hole I'd made for myself, and I wanted out. I wanted to show everyone that, contrary to what they thought, I was more than just... uh... a fuck toy and still had more in me to give.”

“So, you...”

“I left Sanctuary, went through the motions of regaining active field agent status, and... let the Secretary talk me in to easing my way back into things by going to Croatia on a protection detail...”

“Oh...” Shit, in other words. Will finally gets himself back together, only to have it quickly taken back away from him.

“Yeah. Oh.”

“Shit. I'm sorry. You... Fuck! You've got to believe...”

“We've been through this before and, I don't know about you, but I think it's been done to death. I don't blame you, you have nothing to apologise for, and... it's history.” Pausing, he sighs heavily. “History that pretty much neatly dove tails into the end of my story as you more or less already know the rest of it. From believing I failed in Croatia, to being an analyst predominantly hidden behind the walls of HQ, to... falling in your lap in Moscow, you... You now know it all. I'm... awkward around anything of a sexual nature because the thought of losing it in front of someone scares me, I hide the truth about my past because I'm afraid you'll... find me beneath you, and I... I'm taking Jenkinson fucking me so badly because I'd... I'd wanted my... uh... first time since... then... to be special. I... I'd wanted to want it, not... not to be placed in a position that I had no choice in. But... Whatever. It doesn't matter. The truth is out now and you can use it in any way you see fit...”

“Any way I see fit, huh?” I murmur, the hesitation I'm feeling coming through in the tremor in my voice as I slowly roll onto my side so that I'm facing Will's back.

“Whatever you feel as though you have to do,” Will replies as, tensing, he sniffs back what I imagine to be tears of his own. “Berate me for not having been honest. Tell me that I disgust you. Kick me out of the team because I don't deserve my spot in it. Just... Don't hold back. I... I can take it better than I can the sense of false hope...”

“Of course you deserve your spot,” I respond, choosing to highlight that particular point because, quite frankly, it's the easiest to answer without deteriorating in to straight out lecture-mode. “Think about it,” I continue, tentatively placing my hand on his hunched shoulder. “If you hadn't been there, who would have saved me at the Burj, huh? Then there's last year's fun and games with The Syndicate. I mean, if you hadn't had my back, who would have come to my aid when Hunley's little brain fade ended up with him issuing the kill order? Will... You deserve your spot in the team, just as you deserve our trust, loyalty and friendship. I'm only here because of you and, I don't care what it takes, I'm going to make sure you know you mean the damn world to me!” Swallowing hard, I throw caution to the winds and, wrapping my arms around Will, hug him to me. “I hate what happened to you, and I hate that fucking Six have made you feel like this, but it doesn't change anything. Not a damn thing. So... Please. Stop waiting to be pushed away and... let me be here for you in whatever way you want me to...”

“I...” All the tension leaving his body as he sighs in relief, Will pushes back against me and folds his hands over mine to lock me in place. “As I'm only here because of you too,” he whispers, “thank you... Thank you for proving that I still have it in me to be a good judge of character and that, at long last, there really is a light at the end of the tunnel. Just... Thank you. For everything.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Returning the kettle to its base, I leave the teabag to seep in the, still, even after all these days, quaint-to-me, Tom Kitten mug and bide my time by staring through the kitchen window at the rain drenched world outside. Unlike that night in London, which to my continued surprise is already three days ago now, the falling rain isn't merely enough to make outdoor activities seem ill advised though and is in fact so torrential that I can barely see through it to the bottom gate. According to the message that came through on my phone a while ago from Jane, who I can only assume must have the radio on in the car as she and Benji drive to Scotland, there's even talk of minor flooding befalling the region if it doesn't let up within the next twenty-four hours. The house, or cottage as I think the preferred term for it is around here is, being built at the top of a small hill and a couple of miles away from the nearest river, I'm not concerned about the threat of flooding and, having nowhere else I'd rather be anyway, don't even care about being kept inside for the foreseeable future by the seemingly never-ending rain.

Hunley having followed through with ensuring the Secret Intelligence Service were aware of just how... unimpressed... IMF were with the lack of honesty originating from McAllister's department, the Chief himself, Felix Bannister, came to the apartment to not only apologise and deliver a huge – ass-kissing – basket of fruit, chocolate and wine, but he also insisted we make use of his private cottage in the Lake District during our break as his way of... personally... taking responsibility for the failings of his minions. Not particularly wanting, despite Benji already having eaten half of a banana and Jane busily – and loudly – critiquing the wine, anything from Six in case they thought for a second that things were... cool... between our two agencies, I'd been going to refuse his offer when, not used to taking no for an answer, he played his trump card by bringing up pictures of the property on his phone and that was just that, I no longer stood a chance.

“Oh my God, I've always wanted to stay in one of those story book looking cottages!” exclaimed Benji through a mouthful of banana.

“I'm not saying it's been a life's ambition,” said Jane, “but I wouldn't mind...”

And Will, who hadn't said a word to Bannister and who had just sat on the sofa pretending he was elsewhere, took the phone, scrolled through the photos, and... smiled.

And Bannister, knowing then that he had won, simply handed over the keys and sent the location to my phone.

I told him, as I showed him to the elevator, that I was still pissed off and that it would be a long time before I recommended working with Six again and, proving just why it was he'd made it to the top of his field, he simply smiled, patted me on the shoulder, and told me that as he'd done his job in playing the role of the diplomat, he didn't give a fuck what I thought.

And that, again, was that.

We packed up the apartment that afternoon, drove to the Lake District and, albeit begrudgingly, even I've now got to admit that accepting Bannister's offer of his – 'been in the family for centuries' – cottage was a good move. Picturesque, as comfortable as it is well appointed, and just far enough away from the nearest town to offer complete privacy and peace, it's the ideal spot for a week of much needed rest and relaxation. For three days we've slept in late before getting in the car and driving around until we found a pub we liked for lunch. Then, after lingering over a good meal, we've gotten back in the car and toured around the district, stopping anywhere that took our fancy and quietly marvelling at how... normal... we were being. No threats, no ties to IMF. Just four good friends having a holiday together.

It's been great, and very much what everyone needed. Six and their damn op haven't rated a mention, and I swear every time I've looked at Will he's been either smiling or laughing. Which, in turn, has given me even more of a reason to smile myself.

And now, given that a documentary watched on Youtube about the myth of the Loch Ness Monster inspired a latent desire in Jane to see the Loch herself, he and I have the cottage to ourselves for the rest of the week while the other two have gone off to hunt amphibious... monsters. 

“I think I may well be starting to die of thirst in here,” Will calls out from the living room. “Ethan? Do you need a hand?”

“Nope. All good,” I call back, jiggling the teabag a couple of times before throwing it in the bin and adding a dash of milk. Returning the milk to the refrigerator, I pick up the Tom Kitten mug and my coffee, itself in a cup emblazoned with Peter Rabbit, and walk into the living room. “Given the size of the lunch everyone managed to put away before the others left, I'm thinking you probably don't want a biscuit, but...”

“As I'm yet to be convinced about even wanting anything for dinner after all that food, just the tea is more than fine by me,” Will replies with a ready smile as he takes the mug from me and, with his empty hand, pats the sofa next to him in an open invitation to join him in sitting in front of the roaring fire. “Thanks. Now... Sit with me.”

“Did you see Jane's message about possible flooding?” I query, taking a seat on the sofa and toasting him with my cup.

“We're safe here, I have no need to go anywhere, so... Let it.” Pausing, Will wrinkles his nose and takes a sip of tea. “Of course, that said, if it does and the locals need assistance...”

“We'll be first out the door,” I finish with a nod. “Of course.” Toeing my shoes off, I stretch my feet out towards the fire and sigh, for a nice change, with pleasure. “This is... wonderful.”

“I know.” Grinning, Will wriggles his stockinged toes towards the fire and returns my toast with his cup. “We've got absolutely nothing to do or place to be, the sound of the rain on the roof is, for reasons I can’t actually explain, oddly comforting, the fire is glorious , and...” His grin intensifying, he glances at me and laughs. “And we're drinking out of cups illustrated by the Lake District's favourite daughter, Beatrix Potter. I mean, what more could we possibly want, huh?”

Knowing full well my feeling as though I'm in danger of suffocating under the weight of the Beatrix Potter memorabilia that I'm fairly certain keeps half of the District's businesses afloat, I know that Will is intentionally having a go at pushing my buttons and feign a haughty sniff of disapproval. “You mean apart from being able to drink one's beverage out of a more... manly... cup, you mean?”

“Am I correct, then, in thinking that you're not a fan of Miss Potter's work?”

“If you must know, her work had never crossed my path before. Now, however, not only am I aware of it, but I'm also... over... it.”

“Cute little critters in old fashioned clothing doesn't do it for you?”

“You know, I can't say that it does.”

“So...” He smirks and oh-so-calmly takes a sip of tea. “What am I going to do with the Peter Rabbit cup I've got hidden in my bag for you?”

I return his smirk with one of my own. “Do you want the polite answer, or...”

“I'll just save it for your birthday, then,” Will responds, his eyes bright with amusement as, curling his legs up on to the sofa, he shifts close enough to me for our shoulders to be touching. 

“You do that,” I laugh, loving the simplicity of the moment and how clearly relaxed and happy Will is.

“I will.”

“I'll look forward to it.”

“Actually...” Will glances at me and shrugs. “Don't laugh, but I have a bit of soft spot for Beatrix Potter and her creations. My grandmother, you see, was British and I can remember her reading them to me as a child. She even had the full set of original, first editions that had been given to her as a young girl. I believe a couple were even signed by Beatrix herself.”

“I suspect they'd be worth a small fortune now,” I reply, transferring my cup to my left hand and giving in to the urge to wrap my arm around Will's shoulders.

“Or not so small, even,” he responds, settling against me without hesitation. “Despite not having thought about them for the decades, as I've got a few boxes of her stuff I may even have them somewhere.”

“If you did you could sell them and live the life of luxury away from all of this...”

“I could...” Pausing, he looks at me for a moment or two before turning his head and gazing in to the fire. “I wouldn't though. I mean, I don't really think you'd take to the life of being a kept man...”

“You're probably right,” I reply, deliberately keeping my voice light even though I'm touched by Will's response and the clear statement made by it. “I suspect I'd be high maintenance, and God knows I'd need entertaining, but...” I softly kiss his cheek and smile. “For you I'd still be willing to give it a go.”

“You'd die of boredom, which I could never do to you, but... Thank you for even considering it.” Shifting closer – any closer, in fact, and he'll be on my lap – still, Will places his hand on my thigh and sighs with obvious contentment. “I almost don't want to say it for fear of jinxing it somehow,” he murmurs, “but I can't remember when I last felt this happy.”

“It's good, isn't it,” I agree, closing my hand around his upper arm and giving it a squeeze.

“You, too?” he queries, perhaps with just the slightest note of surprise in his voice as he turns his head to look over at me. “This isn't too... mundane for...”

“Definitely me too,” I interrupt, giving his cheek another kiss, “and, no, it's not too mundane. I have everything I want and need, and... I'm good.”

“Good,” Will echoes as, having finished his tea, he places his cup down on the arm of the sofa before resting his head on my shoulder. “Ethan...”

“Mmm?” Sensing that the mood of the conversation is about to change, I take a mouthful of now lukewarm coffee and wait for him to continue.

“Now that the others are gone and... I'm under threat of physical harm from Jane if I don't move into the main bedroom,” he murmurs, referring to our sleeping arrangements in the cottage and how, despite all of us insisting he take it, the room went to Benji after he refused, citing 'fairness' and 'no need for special treatment', to budge from our usual game of Rock, Paper Scissors, “I was wondering if... uh... perhaps you'd like to share it with me?”

“And give up that wonderful, poky little bedroom next to the squeaky gate?” I respond, masking my delight behind yet more facetiousness as, for the sake of keeping the moment easy going and light hearted, I just think it's safer. “I don't know...”

“If you don't want to...”

“I didn't say that I didn't want to, just that it would be a sacrifice.”

“Oh...”

“One, however, that having weighed up the pros and cons, I'm prepared to take.”

“How... magnanimous... of you.”

“I thought so.” Because he hasn't reacted negative to my first two kisses, I brush my lips against Will's cheek again and give his arm another squeeze. “Just in case that wasn't clear enough, I'd love to share the other bedroom with you. In fact, it would be my distinct pleasure.”

“I...” His body tensing slightly, Will gives me a nervous look. “I'm not promising that you'll get anything more than a bigger bed and the bonus of body heat to keep you warm, but... Uh... If it's what you want, I... I can try...”

“You had me at the larger bed and body heat,” I state reassuringly as, wanting to make it clear that I don't want him to bolt away from me, I tighten my arm around his shoulders and wait from him to relax. “Think about it. We survived the other night together, didn't we...”

And survive is, for me anyway, a pretty apt way of describing that night, too.

Whereas Will, exhausted by everything he'd been through and secure in the position he'd found himself in, slept like a log, I hardly got any sleep and just lay there, listening to Will breathe and once again caught fast by the white noise in my head.

It just... ate... at me.

Everything.

Hunley. Six. Jenkinson.

Cabella.

Not knowing.

Now...

… Knowing.

Blame. Hatred. Guilt.

Anguish.

Will.

What he'd been through, and was still going through.

Raw, palpable grief.

What it meant.

Did it change anything?

Should... it change anything?

Having to trust my team, as much for their sake as mine, would I have changed my mind about wanting to work with Will if I'd known the truth? Would I have viewed him as a weak link, someone not suited to the perils of being in the field?

Is that how I should view him now?

Broken. Too much of a risk.

Just...

Too hard. Life was so much simpler when I’d woken up that morning. Indulging in an award winning bout of selfishness for a second, why'd Six have to come along and fuck things up? I liked Will better when I was in blissful ignorance of his past.

Only...

… That wasn't true at all.

I still liked Will.

Loved.

I still loved him.

And, as dawn broke and he rolled over to curl around me, I finally realised that nothing had changed at all.

If I'd known,I still would have welcomed him into my team as I would have wanted to give him a second chance. Granted, it may have been on a probationary period to start with, but I'd still have worked with him. And, with the benefit of hindsight, I know I would have made the right call as, regardless of what he may have been carrying around internally, he's never given me cause to doubt his abilities.

So, work wise, nothing needed to change at all. He was still a reliable agent who I had no hesitation in trusting my life with.

As for personally?

The only change there was that I had no intention of ever letting him go again.

He'd laid himself bare to me, and I was going to do whatever it took to put him back together again.

Fight. Argue. Protect. Listen. Soothe.

Be there.

Always.

Realising this, that I was in for the long haul and that nothing else had to matter, was like unlocking the door to inner peace and when I finally went to sleep I think I did so with a smile on my face.

“We did,” Will responds as the tension of only a moment ago leaves his body and he settles back next to me. “You also made it clear to me that everything was going to be okay, that... we... were going to be okay...”

“I could be a smart ass here and say that it's just because I'm naturally skilled like that,” I murmur, placing my cup on the side-table before pressing my hand down on Will's, “but the reason it worked so well was because it was simply the truth and you knew it too. All I did was voice it.”

“I knew it,” he confirms, turning his hand over in mine and entwining our fingers, “but I needed to hear you say it.”

'I don't know about you, but I'm exactly where I want to be.”

That was all that I said when, upon waking and finding himself in an unusual, unknown, and, at the time, momentarily terrifying position, Will had sucked his breath in and gone absolutely rigid next to me.

Straight forward and from the heart.

And it worked.

All the doubt and fear instantly dissolved and we knew, both of us, instantly and irrevocably, that everything was going to be okay.

We were both where we wanted to be, and how we'd got there didn't have to matter a damn.

“I'm still where I want to be,” I whisper, “where I... always... want to be.”

“Me too.” Pulling his hand out from under mine, Will lifts my arm off his shoulders and stands up. “Ethan...” Standing in front of me with his back to the fire, he holds his hand out and, with a hopeful smile, waits for me to take it. “Kiss me...”

Not needing telling – and it was definitely far more of an order than it was a request – twice, I place my hand in his and let him pull me to my feet. “Your wish is my...”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

So I do.

I draw Will to me and, as he drapes his arms over my shoulders and melts against me, settle my lips on his for a very gentle, very warmly received kiss.

And...

… It feels as fantastic as it does immediately familiar.

Always and forever.

We're where we want to be.

~ end ~


End file.
